Four Against The World
by Melface
Summary: [Story discontinued. Account no longer in use.]
1. Witch Hunts

**Prologue - Witch Hunts**

The times after the destruction of the Ethos were dark ones. The main threat had been disposed of, but in the light of new information, many were wary. All the theories of RaDosian geneaology, all those who scoffed at the idea of their ancestors being extra-terrestrials, were proven wrong by physical evidence.

Rion.

Upon seeing his Prime appearance, many of the easier-to-convince citizens immediately took interest in their family trees. Others, more reluctant to believe, demanded more proof - proof that the boy was no hoax. Conclusive tests, conducted by the most credible physician and most advanced scientist in RaDos, caused a majority of those people to revise their beliefs as well.

However, there were still the die-hards, stubborn people who clung dogmatically to their non-belief in the Defenders' new claim. Gradually, they began to fight back against the change. The gullible citizens they ruled through fear. The skeptics, they bombarded with carefully hidden, carefully designed logical fallacies. And finally, after a year and a half of undermining and conniving, they played the ultimate wild card.

They arrested Rion, shutting him away where not even his teammates, his friends, his _family_ could get to him. He didn't go without a fight. He and the others fought hard and well, but were ultimately overwhelmed. They scattered, attempting to throw off pursuit, but the people wanted only Rion. Once they had him, and the dust had settled, the Defenders were left one member short, and divided.

A new government rose to power, praising itself as a democracy. A representative was elected from each province to sit on a council of eight, where decisions would be made. One year later, as election time drew near, the council pulled an about-face, sliding into a dictatorship. They had the support of the nation's law enforcement, which they renamed 'Peacekeepers' and gathered around their House of Government. Just in time.

The mob of citizens, enraged at the betrayal of their leaders, never even made it through the front gates, so strong were the shields of the Peacekeepers. Several of the more adamant protesters were taken prisoner and interrogated by a new group called Questioners: an elite cadre of investigators trained by the Council for the Council, to be used in dealing with insurrection and determining Prime RaDosians from others.

Of course, there was no difference in outward appearance between Prime RaDosians and others. Most Prime - like the Defenders - had completely normal appearances, their true selves revealed only by the effects of the Dark Realm. This was one thing the government knew, as well as the fact that the prejudice against Prime was born of distrust and misunderstanding, and they used it to their advantage. They offered rewards to whoever could bring in suspected Prime and have their suspicions confirmed. Innocents were accused, and falsely confirmed as Prime through methods designed to put the public at ease.

A new movement began to rise to the front - Anti-Prime citizens took to the streets, protesting the contamination of society with these lowest of life-forms, and promoting the imagined glories of a pure heritage. The True Movement had been born.

The families of those accused as Prime were angry, but what could they do? The first attempt at rebellion had been stopped so easily, so completely, that there seemed no sense in trying. The wrath of the Council and their pet enforcers was too much a liability. So the citizens endured.

The separated Defenders began to make their way to Altamor - a common ground for refugees. Seth and Mel met up first, followed a month later by Erik. It was another six months before Adam turned up. They shifted south, gathering information about the actions of the government, gradually forming a plan to take the leaders down, retrieve Rion, and bring a newer, better, and more honest government to RaDos.


	2. Information Chapter 01

**Info Chapter #One**

Hello there, my lovely readers! I have here a little bit of information for you, just to keep those gorgeous minds of yours from tying up in knots. It's time to introduce the new government I created for this story, in all it's evil, corrupt glory.

First off, there's the Governing Council (GC). Also known as the Octivirate Council, the Council of Eight, the Interprovincial Council, or, as I like to call them, Those Jerks In Charge of Stuff. When the GC was first formed, it was one elected official from each province, including Altamor. At that time, there was a reconstruction project going on at the northern edge of Altamor, but the information was downplayed due to the 'Prime RaDosian' issue. Altamor's representative was seen as the 'redneck mayor' sort of person on the Council, and his opinion didn't count for much. The Councilors (and, by extension, their families), belong to the highest caste available in the new society. To identify themselves, they have a special identification card with a double-Ogama henge on it.

Henge Symbolism: "It takes Order to maintain Order."

Secondly, are the Protectors. Usually mercenaries or ex-soldiers, these people act as bodyguards to those who warrant it. They are usually assigned to high-risk targets, or government employees who are incapable of or have no training in self-defense. Their identification cards carry a Nega-Ogama henge to show they belong to the second-highest caste.

Henge Symbolism: "Preserving Order through the use of Force."

Third in line are the Observers. This is a vast network of secret police, tasked with blending with the ordinary people and ferreting out suspected Prime RaDosians. They are primarily former members of Yintos' Military Intelligence, with a minority of YMI-trained members. As the third caste, their ID cards show a Yan-Ogama henge.

Henge Symbolism: "It takes Wisdom to know the targets to be eliminated in the preservation of Order."

The fourth caste falls to the Questioners. Most are disliked, and seen as little more than torturers or sneaks, if the rumours are true. The military forces of Ogama-Gor provided the senior members of this caste, who in turn trained their underlings. They use any means necessary to extract confessions of crimes or admissions of being Prime from their victims. The henge on their ID cards is an Altas-Ogama.

Henge Symbolism: "All things done to maintain Balance and Order."

Fifth in the ranking system are the Peacekeepers. As stated before, these guys are the police, and woe betide you if you run afoul of them. Picture one of those cops that lets a criminal off the hook by accepting a bribe. Then take about ten thousand more, and you've got the Peacekeepers. Every single one of them is devoted to maintaining the laws set by the GC, whether willingly, or through the influence of routine indoctrination. They perform everyday policing duties, but the highest-place/most senior officers do have dealings directly with the GC. Their ID badges (not cards, because cops need badges) bear a Dako-Ogama henge.

Henge Symbolism: "In the service of tranforming Chaos into Order."

Number six, and the second-last caste, is that of the Speakers. They're responsible for getting the words of the GC out to the general public. Not by broadcast transmissions, either. These fellas operate old-school, pulling the old 'town crier' act. They travel from town to town, usually with a Protector, in case some people decide not to take the news well. They are usually quite young, and are being introduced to government life at an entry-level position. Their ID cards have a Yin-Ogama henge.

Henge Symbolism: "The voices of Youth will spread Order across the land."

Last, and pretty much least, is the seventh caste, the members of which are simply known as Workers. This is, as the name suggests, the working class of people, making up the majority of RaDos' population. Anyone who is homeless, unemployed, or otherwise without the possession of a Worker's identification card simply doesn't exist in the government's eyes. Their henge is an Infinis-Ogama.

Henge Symbolism: "For all Infinity will Order endure." (= They don't get a job-specific one, because they're all ordinary people. Poor non-special people. *patpats*)

Welp, that's all for now - any questions can be PM'd to me on here, and I'll answer them at the beginning of the next (and first) chappie. Sound good? Great, I thought so too. Fly fast and shoot straight.

. . . . Don't actually shoot anyone. It's just a Star Wars saying.


	3. Who Wants A Drink?

**Chapter One - Plots and Plans**

The barroom was crowded with people and noise. The dim light served to give privacy to the patrons, as well as provide an air of mystical unknown. Focused lights over the long wooden bar illuminated the people there, those engaged in conversation, the act of drinking, or trying to find that special someone.

A server approached a small table shrouded in shadow, balancing a circular tray on one hand. Wordlessly, he set down the two drinks he carried, tucked the tray under one arm, and caught the coin that was flipped his way. He left as two gloved hands reached out from the shadows to claim the beverages.

"One's glowing," a male voice said, gray eyes studying the leftmost glass warily.

"It's not contaminated or anything," his companion - a female - answered. "Anyway, it's not like you're the one who ordered it." Her black-gloved hand reached out and took the glowing cup from him.

His eyes darted from her to the drink and back again. "You're not actually going to . . . ."

Cloth rustled as she shook her head. "You know I'm not." Silence settled over the table, the bar music continuing on. As the song - if it could be called that - came to an end, applause skittered sparsely through the crowd, and the cloaked female tensed. "Got one. Behind you, wearing the dark red shirt," she muttered, blue eyes steady on her suspect. "The card is clipped right to it, bold as brass."

The fabric covering the lower half of her friend's face twitched as he grimaced behind it. "Perfect . . . . Can you see the sigils?"

Her eyes narrowed, pupils, irises, and whites alike shifting to a soft shade of blue as mysteriously enhanced vision came into play. "Mm . . . Looks like a Yan-Ogama henge. That would put him, what, in the third-highest caste?"

He nodded. "Yan-Ogama is the Observers, all right. Get your eyes back to normal before he observes _them_, will you? We don't need to get caught like we did at Yi-Maki last week."

She sighed as she allowed her eyes to resume their normal appearance. "So much for hoping that the True movement hadn't spread this far North." Behind her, the door opened, and it was her partner's turn to tense.

"Uh oh . . . . Two of them just came in - Speaker and Protector, by the looks of 'em." He checked the timepiece mounted on the bar's far wall. "Right on time, too."

"Let the patriotic, dogmatic babbling begin."

"Citizens of Ogama-Gor!" a thin, reedy voice piped up. "I address you on behalf of the Octivirate Governing Council - the most honourable government of all RaDos!" He paused to pull a rolled-up length of parchment from his belt, shaking it out. "Your representative to the Council wishes you to know that he has at last succeeded in establishing a secure shipping system from your harbours to those of other coastal provinces! Sleep well tonight, knowing that your lives are guaranteed a prosperity as you are defended from those who would disrupt your commerce!"

The Speaker looked around, as if expecting his audience to burst into cheers, for caps to be thrown, and rounds of drinks to be ordered. No such recognition came. The bar's patrons merely watched impassively. Dropping his gaze back to the pronouncement in his hand, he resumed his speech.

". . . Right . . . . I must remind you, as True RaDosians, we must be ever wary, for there are those among us who are so immersed in their own self-importance, that they would seek to overthrow us. Even their name - Prime RaDosians - implies that they believe themselves to be better we are!"

Disgruntled muttering came from around the room - the audience was starting to warm up. "This is the reason for your Observers and Peacekeepers!" the Speaker called above the noise. "To protect _you_, those who are native of your world! Because you were born on RaDos, you are the only true RaDosians! Do not allow the Prime to bring you down, to stomp you out, to confuse you with their heretical words!

"Instead, do what you can to assist the Observers and Peacekeepers in their work! If you do this a significant amount of times, your name will be submitted the the Governing Council for recognition! You _will _be remembered as one of the great founding fathers and mothers of the True cause!"

Inflamed, the crowd cheered, all except the two in the shadowed booth. They merely watched the others, doing their best to remain inconspicuous.

"There is an Observer here!" the Speaker shouted when the noise had died down some. "True Observer, what have you seen tonight?"

There was almost instant silence. The man with the dark red shirt turned away from the bar, the white card with his identification clearly visible at the right side, just below the shoulder. The people who'd been standing nearest him inched away.

"There are Prime among us in this place!" he called to the room. "I have seen them trying to blend in, to appear inconspicuous as they plot our destruction; as they plot to overthrow the True castes and the rightful government of RaDos!"

"Oh, we're sigilsunk . . . ." the blue-eyed female muttered.

The Observer's finger levelled dramatically at her and her companion, every eye in the place following it. "_They_ are the traitors to the cause!" Before either of the cloaked persons could move, the Protector strode forward, and, with two quick movements, removed their hoods. Gasps and murmurs erupted all around the room.

Impassive, Seth looked across at an equally expressionless Melosa. "Doesn't sound as though they're happy to see us."

"Disappointing," she said as she shook her head.

"Step out from the table," the Protector said, moving back a pace with one hand in his stone pouch. As the two Defenders complied, he wrapped one hand around the upper arm of each, marching them forward.

The Speaker smiled nastily. "Well. The Di-Gata Defenders," he mused, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "A surprise, to be sure, although not necessarily a pleasant one."

"We could say the same for you," Seth answered flippantly. "When you didn't stop by for a drink last week, we were rather insulted, you know."

"I'm not sure I want to talk to you now," Mel added, giving the Speaker a disappointed look before turning to her partner. "Didn't you say we _didn't_ want to be noticed tonight?"

"Hmm. I did say that, didn't I."

The Speaker glared at them. "Enough lip. Protector Vental, arrest them both, please." He stuffed the pronouncement back into his belt, and turned toward the door, scowling the entire time.

"Can't do that," the Protector said, letting go of the two 'prisoners' and folding his arms. "And my name's Adam, not Vental."

Seth smirked. "You were going to let us get arrested, weren't you."

"Nah, I was just letting Mister Speaker lull himself into a false sense of security."

"He's been lulled enough," Mel said, sounding both bored and firm. "Let's finish what we've started, please? If you guys don't get to sleep on time, you'll be completely unbearable tomorrow."

"The lady makes a point," Seth grinned. Sobering, he turned to face a now confused looking Speaker. "Before my partner and I came tonight - before we even knew we'd be coming - we received a message from a contact who has access to information on the Governing Council."

The Speaker's face paled to white.

"Our contact told us of another message, one from the Ogama-Gor councilor, addressed to one of the more prominent leaders of organized crime in the area. Apparently, the good Councilor managed to come up with a price that would ensure the leader's continued financial success while encouraging him to leave RaDosian shipping alone." The Defender's grin took on a predatory edge. "And apparently, a Speaker matching your description found out about the deal and managed to get himself a nice little piece of it as well."

Already ghost-white, the Speaker's face now faded to gray. "You have no proof," he said at last, voice hoarse.

Mel's lips twitched in a tiny, challenging smile. "Proof of what, Speaker?" His eyes darted to her. "If you believe you're innocent, why are you so nervous? Surely the three of us can't pose that much of a threat to _you_."

"Blackmailing government officials is a very self-conscious line of work, isn't it," Adam said, voice quiet to the point of confidentiality.

The Speaker swallowed hard as he finally saw the bar patrons glaring at him. Seth stood casually, regarding the Speaker with a faint smile. "I love it when a plan comes together," he said, satisfied. "Now, speaking of blackmailing government agents, we'd like to have a little chat with you. Outside, if possible."

The man started to protest before Adam stepped forward, took him by the arm, and frog-marched him out the door. Seth and Mel turned to face the onlookers. "Sorry to disturb everyone," the young Wizard said calmly. "Just continue with whatever you were doing." A thin smile touched her lips. "Well send Mr Speaker in when we're done with him."

As they turned to leave, dark, quiet laughter rippled through the gathering. Lifting their cloak hoods, the two Defenders pushed through the doors, out into the night. The weather had turned cold in the past week, and even now, snow skirled down out of the dark sky as they headed for an alley two blocks away. The Speaker sat on the metal fire escape from a nearby residential building, quietly fuming. Adam leaned against the wall nearby. As the two apporached, the Speaker looked up, defiance plain on his face - he'd decided not to co-operate.

"Since you, by your own admission, have no proof of my dealings with Councilor Ondiro, I demand you release me," he snapped. "I am an official agent of the legal RaDosian government! I have the power to have all of you imprisoned! And when I do, you'll never see the light of day again! You'll waste away, and no one will ever know what happened to you! You'll -"

"End up just like Rion?" Seth broke in harshly.

The Speaker glared back at him. "Just like him." A sadistic smile spread across his face. "No sunlight, no moonlight, no artificial light. Just darkness. No contact with anyone, just silence all the time. No wonder the lad went crazy!"

Seth wisely stepped aside as Mel moved forward. Her hand clenched around the Speaker's shirt collar, hauling him up so her angry eyes were less than two inches away. "Listen to me, dirtbag, and listen hard," she said, the words issuing from between clenched teeth. "The next time I hear you say anything like that about _any_ of my teammates, your pals will have to chisel you out of a block of ice so thick, it'll take a year to reach the centre. Am I understood?"

The Speaker swallowed hard. Defiance did little with angry Wizards, except make them angrier. "U-understood." He fell back to the step as Mel released him.

"Your name?" she asked curtly.

"Tarss, Son of Enth."

Mel studied him a moment, until he fidgeted under her stare. "Well, Tarss, since you know so much Rion, where is he?"

The Speaker's eyes darted from her, to Seth, to Adam, and back again. "I don't know. I was just repeating what I'd heard." He stiffened as Mel's left hand rose, blue light glowing around her black glove. Her eyes hardened.

"Don't lie to me, Tarss."

He swallowed hard again, the last vestiges of defiance falling away. "Amos-Yan. He's in the Amos-Yan prison."

"Amos-Yan?" Seth repeated in disbelief. "Amos-Yan is a monastery, not a prison."

"Not anymore," Tarss said, chancing a look up at the young leader. "It's been converted." He drew back in shock as Mel's eyes brightened to glowing blue, a sure sign of her rising temper.

"It's been _what_?" she hissed.

Seth reached out, caught her by the shoulder, and pulled her back. "Eyes," he muttered. Waiting until the glow disappeared, he leaned over, whispering something into her ear. She listened, hands curled into fists, still watching Tarss intensely. At last, she nodded. Seth passed her a closed-down communicator, and she slipped off further down the alley, out of earshot.

"I wouldn't mention Amos-Yan around her again, if I were you," the young man said, turning back toward his prisoner. "She's going to be touchy on that subject for a while." Tarss nodded his understanding. "What _did_ happen with the monastery?"

"Just what I told you - the Council took it over, moved the monks out, and set the place up as a prison. They figured all those secluded little meditation rooms worked great as cells, once the windows were blocked off."

Adam spoke up. "What kind of prison - criminal or political?"

"Political."

"How many inmates?"

"Three hundred and forty-nine, exactly."

"Including Rion?"

"Including him." Tarss paused. "You know, you're pretty good at this. I could get you in as a Questioner, no problem." He twitched at the glare he received. "Oh. Never mind then."

They waited in silence for only a few minues before Mel returned, the communicator in one hand, her face composed and impassive. "Erik'll be waiting at the extraction point," she reported. "We're to bring the hostage with us."

Seth nodded. "All right. You take Speaker Tarss with you; Adam and I'll follow and cover up."

As the Wizard pulled him to his feet, Tarss began to show signs of panic. "Whoa, whoa, hang on a second! What do you need a hostage for?! I was only doing my job -"

He broke off as an ice-cold hand touched the back of his neck, the chill creeping through his skin, down his spine, and coiling into a ball in his belly.

"Move."

As they followed Mel and her less-than-happy charge through the deserted streets, both males obliterated any tracks left behind. After a few moments, Adam broke the silence. "So how close can this one get us to the Council."

"Not close enough," was the grim reply. "A lowly Speaker isn't in a high enough caste to be rubbing elbows with Council members. For that, we'd need a senior officer with either the Protectors or Peacekeepers."

"The guy who was supposed to be Protecting Tarss tonight was too easy to take out," Adam muttered. "Either really new, or really sloppy." He caught the look Seth was giving him. "What? He doesn't have any _permanent_ damage . . . ."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

There was more silence, punctuated by footsteps crunching the snow, and soft swishing as loose flakes were nudged about to disguise the tracks. "You didn't really answer my question," Adam pointed out. "How close can Tarss get us to the Council?"

Seth was quiet for a moment longer. "At least as far as the Speakers' Consulate. After that, we might be able to snag a higher-placed Speaker, who's bound to have either a more experienced or senior officer as a bodyguard."

"The higher-placed a target, the harder he is to intimidate," Adam warned. "Tarss was easy; he's only a minor official. You get messing around with the upper-class, you're going in over your head."

The other smirked. "And that's where you come in."

A pause. "I'm listening."

Brushing more snow over the tracks with his foot, Seth grinned. "Power corrupts, and more power corrupts more."

" . . . . You lost me."

"The higher-placed a target, the more likely he is to be abusing his power. You find out just what he's done, we'll be able to hold it over him until we're ready to move on."

Adam shook his head. "Not good. You'll either have to silence him or imprison him to keep him from talking. And that's assuming he's even intimidated by blackmail - an official in a dictatorship isn't likely to be haunted by his past."

There was quiet again. "You're enjoying poking holes in this, aren't you."

"Don't get me wrong, your basic plan is great," the former thief assured his friend. "But you haven't dealt a lot with bureaucracy, and it shows."

The extraction point came into view - a town square with a lone transport off to one side. It's lights blinked twice: Erik was waiting for them. "You'll just have to give me a hand with the new plan, then," Seth said as they started across the snow-packed square.

"Deal."


	4. Destination: Yangorod

**Chapter Two - Mixed Messages**

The transport moved steadily along, the interior completely quiet. Erik was at the controls, watching boredly out the front window as he drove. Adam was in the passenger seat, having been asleep for the past few hours. In the back, stretched on a padded bench, was a sleeping Tarss. Seth, sitting near one of the tiny windows, appeared to by idly watching the countryside go past. Closer observation showed him to be keeping a close eye on their guest. Mel sat across the vehicle from him, a large black box on her lap, and headphones clamped to her ears, slowly turning a knob on the box's top, scanning communications channels.

A snore came from the front passenger seat, causing Erik to glance sideways in annoyance, muttering something about 'waking the dead.'

"Give him a nudge," Mel said, looking up. "He just caused interference with the scanner, doing that."

Looking back over his shoulder, Erik frowned. "Really? That's weird - only something subsonic should interrupt the signal."

"Uh, Erik . . . watch the road," Seth reminded him, looking uneasily at the older boy.

"Oh . . . right."

Looking back down at the scanner, Mel turned the dial back. "I don't know . . . right when he snored, there was a burst of static. If it wasn't interference . . . ." She jumped abruptly, eyes widening in surprise. "Got it!" Her thumb depressed a small button on the scanner's top, a red light coming on. "Recording."

Getting up, Seth crossed to her, dropping into the seat on her left. "Put it on speaker." Quiet sound filled the space as Mel took the headphone jack from it's port. The soft 'sshh' of static was the prevalent noise, with only snatches of understandable words scattered in between.

"-come........too late....now. For.........-lan to........we must.....on." The voice was male, to be sure, but unfamiliar to any of the Defenders awake to hear it. A second voice, also male, started in on the tail of the first, sounding considerably more harried.

".......possible! We........ources.......!"

".......we..ha.......the.....tion............anned.......ind........procu..........or.......ery...ad.....lear?

There was a pause, filled only with static. "I think we lost it," Mel said quietly, reaching for the recording cutoff. Just before she touched it, however, the second voice spoke again.

"......es, sir. Un.....ood."

A click was the first voice's only answer - he had disconnected. Knowing there would be nothing else coming, Seth reached over and hit the cutoff. "Odd little exchange," he mused. "Did you get anything out of it, Mel?"

She bit her lower lip in thought. "Not from the audio . . . . I can write up a transcript and see if there's anything I can put together, but don't get your hopes up."

Stretching, briefly, he reached out, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Sounds good, but it can wait until tomorrow. Get some sleep."

Flipping the scanner's switch to the 'Off' position, Mel set it on the floor with a yawn. "You don't have to tell me twice. 'Night, everyone."

An hour later, Seth woke Adam for his turn at keeping an eye on Tarss, switching places with the other boy. Settling down in the passenger seat, he glanced across at Erik. "How are you holding up?"

"Just fine," the red-haired boy answered, good-natured as ever. "I caught a nap while waiting to be called in to the extraction point."

Closing his eyes, Seth relaxed at last. "All right. Wake me if anything interesting happens."

The transport trundled on through the night, with it's passengers either asleep, or awake with their own thoughts.

. . . . .

She sat almost perfectly still, the only motion coming from her eyes, which tracked back and forth across the page in front of her. Afternoon sun came through the window, ignored for now. A frustrated frown creased her forehead - things were not going well.

The door of the room opened, the three boys as well as Tarss stepping inside. Mel looked up, the frown disappearing. "Sorry, guys. I haven't got much yet." She waved a hand at the paper on the table. "With the static cutting out most of the conversation, there's not a lot of recognizable words."

Seth leaned over to look at the scattered words of the transcript. "Hmm . . . Erik, is there something you could do to the recording, make it easier to figure out the words?"

"Maybe," the other said slowly. "I thought about trying it last night, but I didn't think there'd be much; nothing is going to get us the whole thing."

"I just need enough to be able to piece it together," Mel said, getting to her feet. Her eyes turned to Tarss. "But for now, I _do_ have something that Mr Speaker might be able to help us with."

Tarss tried to back away, only to bump into Adam. "I-I've told you all I know!" he protested. "There's nothing else that I have to say that would be of use - "

"When we're done, we'll tell you," Mel cut him off, starting to get annoyed. "Got it?"

". . . Yes, ma'am."

Taking the transcript, she held it up in front of Tarss' nose. "The frequency that this came in on is at the top - are you up on the latest government communication protocols?"

Tarss took the paper, skimming through the contents before focusing on the frequency. "Well . . . every caste has it's own private frequency, and it's used only by those operating directly out of the appropriate Consulate. To complicate it further, anyone with access to the frequency has their own extension."

Erik frowned in thought. "So a Peacekeeper in Arboth can be on the same basic frequency as one in Stiltown, but each with a way to reach him personally?"

"Exactly." Moving to the desk,Tarss picked up the pen Mel had been using. "Let's see now . . . . First two letters . . . three after that . . . and the three after that . . . ." He paused, scribbling furiously. "Yep. Your comm came out of Dakor, from the Questioner's Consulate in Yangorod."

"How do you figure that?" Erik asked, moving up beside him.

""The frequencies used by the government are coded," Tarss explained. "The first two numbers give the first two letters of the province." He pointed to the frequency number. "A four and a one, see? D-A. Dakor. Then, you get the next three numbers - they code for the city."

Seth's eyebrows lifted. "They actually numbered every city in RaDos?"

"Just province capitals, trade centres, places of governmental interest," Tarss answered distractedly. "Purely for communication reasons, you understand. Anyway, your next three digits - three-five-nine - code for Yangorod, put on the list because . . . ." Here, he glanced sheepishly at Seth. "Well, because there's an old Defenders' dojo near there. The Councilors figured you might try to head there at some point, and thought it'd be an opportunity to hook a shadow agent onto you."

"Admissions of subterfuge and conspiracy aside," Adam said, "how many places did the Council number?"

Tarss rubbed his chin. "Well . . . only as many as there are three-digit numbers. 100 to 999."

"And you have them all memorized?"

"Before I became a Speaker, I worked as a comm director in the Government Capital," as the proud answer. "Anyway, the last three numbers of the frequency tell you what Consulate it belongs to. In this case, seven-one-five is the Questioners."

"Wow . . ." Erik said, impressed. "That's pretty amazing - I mean, to come up with a system like that, not to mention putting it into play . . . ."

"Is there a way to figure out who our mystery Questioner was talking to?" Seth asked.

"Not from this one frequency," Tarss said, shaking his head.

Silence descended on the room, all eyes on Seth. After a moment, the dark-haired leader turned to Adam. "What do you think? You're the bureaucracy expert."

Arms folded, the other shrugged. "Depends. I think we could probably pull it off, but Tarss might just get in the way. I can't think of a reason we need him for this."

"Now hang on a second!" Tarss blurted worriedly. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Well, we'll leave that as a surprise."

. . . . .

The inn's dining area was brightly lit, the four Defenders gathered around a table close to the door, midway through their meal. After some discussion not long after the breakthrough with the frequency, it had been decided Tarss had, in fact, told them all he could be expected to.

"So how far out of town did you take him?" Erik asked, glancing between Seth and Adam.

"Only about ten klicks," the thief answered. "From where we dropped him, it's two klicks to the next town, so he'll be trying to call any buddies he has to come get him."

"Or us," Seth added seriously. "We'll be fine here for the night, but we need to head out right after breakfast."

Mel frowned. "You're thinking we should go to the Questioner's Consulate in Dakor?"

"I don't see why not," he answered with a shrug. "It's the first good lead we've had in weeks, and finding that Questioner will save us a lot of time working our way up the governmental foodchain."

"He's got a point," Erik said. "From here, it shouldn't take that long to reach Yangorod. Three days, if we don't stop."

"How do we find the Questioner once we get there, though?" Mel asked, folding her arms on the tabletop. "Yangorod is a big city - it could take months to find one particular person."

"The trick is getting inside the Consulate without getting caught," Adam said. "Any records we'd want would be in the main computer, which would be accessible from any terminal in the building."

"Yeah, except that every terminal would have a password protecting it," Erik put in. "If they follow standard government security procedures, then each computer will need a general password to sign in. After that, every person has to have a personal password to access their private files."

Seth sighed, running a hand back through his hair. "We've got three days to figure out a plan - for tonight, we'll get a good sleep, and start fresh tomorrow, once we're on the road to Yangorod."


	5. RaDos' Most Wanted

The innkeeper dozed on his counter, snoring quietly. The front door opened, setting a small bell ringing. Nine tall, burly men entered, heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. The tallest one, apparently the ringleader, stopped in front of the innkeeper, rapping a thick fist on the countertop.

"Rise and shine, Pops," he growled.

The old man blinked awake, lifting his head to look around at the group. "Oh, I'm sorry. Must've dozed off." Rubbing his eyes, he reached for the registry book. "You lot'll be wanting rooms, I suppose . . . ."

"Yeah," the leader said darkly. "We'll take whichever ones you've got the Di-Gata Defenders in."

Frowning, the innkeeper looked up at the man. "You'll want to check your facts, son. The Defenders haven't been around for over a year now. Sure, people here 'n' there have been saying they're back, but don't believe it - those kids are long gone. They won't be showing their faces near anyplace civilized for years, let alone here."

Fwoom!

Startled, the old man's eyes shifted to the flaming hand of the nearest stranger. Purple tendrils of energy swirled around the man's fist - an obvious threat.

"I'm going to ask you again, old-timer," the leader said slowly. "Four people - late teens. What rooms?"

Warily, the innkeeper glanced between his interrogator and the flaming hand menacing him. "I'm telling you, son, there aren't any teenagers checked in here - let a group of six in one time, and they trashed the place. Twenty-one and over is the limit now." He pushed the registry book forward. "Have a look for yourself if you don't believe me."

The leader flipped through the pages with the newest entries. Finding nothing, he paused, fingering the fastener on his stone pouch in thought. "Hmm . . . . You got a name, Pops?"

"Kiimi, Son of Watten," the oldster answered bravely.

A grin spread across the stranger's face. "Well . . . . What do you make of this, then?" He jabbed a finger at a spot on the page. "Four rooms, registered to "Kiimi S.o. Watten." His voice took on a tone false niceness. "Your family live up there?"

Kiimi's eyes lifted to meet those of the man. "Yes. My family and I rent those four rooms for ourselves."

"I see. Well, boys, I think it'd only be polite to go on up and introduce ourselves. Rooms 29 to 32, if you please."

Kiimi made as if to follow, but the leader caught him by one arm, forcing him into the chair behind the counter. "Now, don't worry - we'll bring 'em all down here to see you. That way, you get a guarantee they're all right."

A thunderous bang came from the next floor up - the sound of four doors being slammed open all at once. Feet pounded, furniture scraped along the floor, all accompanied by shouting voices. Things quieted down as footsteps traversed back to the stairs. In pairs, the group of thugs reappeared, each holding on to a Defender. They were professionals, clearly knowing just who they were going after. The boys were kept under control with an arm twisted behind their backs; the two assigned to Mel knew better than to get close to her hands. One kept a hand gripped in her hair, the other kept her arms clamped to her sides.

"Quite the little fib you spun for us, Kiimi," the leader said, his eyes traversing the line of prisoners in front of him. "I'm not the greatest at remembering faces, but to me, these kids look a lot like those Di-Gata Defenders I mentioned." Walking up to Seth, he stood looking down at the younger boy. "Hmm. No, I don't see the family resemblance at all."

"There a reason why we're here?" Seth asked casually, stifling a yawn. "Our wake up call wasn't supposed to come for another two hours yet."

The thug behind him gave a tug on the arm he held, eliciting an involuntary wince. "Watch your mouth, boy."

Taking a square piece of parchment from an inner pocket of his jacket, the leader motioned to his henchmen to release their charges, before pushing the paper against the Defender's chest. "I have orders to arrest the four of you on charges of treason, unlawful detainment of a government official, and conspiracy to overthrow the legal government of RaDos."

Studying the arrest warrant, Seth nodded slowly. "Seems legitimate enough. What do you think, Mel?"

She accepted the parchment as he passed it to her, looking straight at the stranger. "I think he needs to wash his hair, not to mention it's high time he took a shower." When only silence greeted this remark, she looked around at the others. "Oh, about the warrant." Skimming over it, she shrugged before tearing it in half. "Bit too much legal jargon in there. Any thoughts, Erik?"

The red-haired boy shook his head, studying the two pieces of paper. "I can't make heads or tails out of it." He tore the halves again, making them into quarters. "Lawyers seem to make it a challenge -" Quarters became eighths. "To see how much technical stuff they can fit in to one document."

He passed the pieces to Adam, who tossed them back over his shoulder, directly into the face of one of the thugs. "I hate lawyers."

With that, the room exploded into movement.

The leader snatched at Seth's collar, only to miss as the boy stepped aside, turning so his back was against Mel's. Her fist shot out, slamming against the stomach of a thug who'd tried rushing her. A sheen of ice appeared on his shirt as he fell back, gasping for air. Erik ducked the two thugs that lunged for him, turning quickly on the spot to check for anyone else attempting to ambunsh him. No one's attention was on him for the moment, but Kiimi, off to one side, had a henchman closing in from behind, a nasty sneer on his face. Moving forward, Erik pushed the oldster to one side, turning back and sticking a foot out as the would-be attacker, continued by, carried on by momentum. The henchman stumbled, but stayed upright, turning to glare at the Defender.

"Pick on someone your own size, pal," the red-haired boy said above the noise.

"Like you?"

Slipping away from the musclemen behind him, Adam skirted the main scuffle, taking the stairs two at a time. Within moments, he was back, stopping at the railing of the landing overlooking the main floor. "Heads up!"

Two stone carriers and one guantlets flew out over the jumble of people below, miraculously finding their way to their owners. Seconds later, new shouts were heard, almost simultaneously.

"Vanguard Aegis!"

"Barricade Array!"

Hazy blue shields flared into existence, coming between the Defenders and their attackers. One intruder was caught in the rush of energy, being flung back against the nearest wall. He hit the floor limply, unconscious and out of the fight.

"Oh, very clever," the leader snapped. His jacket had been pulled open, exposing the identification badge clipped to the lining. A Nega-Ogama henge emblazoned on it, identified his as 'Peacekeeper Razon, S.o. Mordith.' "You don't seriously believe we'll let you leave, do you?"

Seth felt carefully at his split lower lip, the result of a blow that had made it past his guard. "You don't seriously think you can keep us here?"

Razon snorted, unimpressed. "Arrogant little brat, aren't you. If sons are like fathers, then I suppose the rumours about yours are true." Snickers spilled from the other henchmen - presumably Peacekeepers as well - at their leader's remark.

As Seth took a half-step forward, Mel caught his sleeve. "Don't - he's just baiting you. He's got something planned," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

The burly Peacekeeper noticed anyway. "Don't be giving him any tips, Wizard," he admonished. "You'll need all your little magic tricks to survive this round. Especially with the new legislature working it's way through the council."

"You're wasting your time," was the calm answer. "It's your move - either make it, or get out."

Chuckling darkly, Razon turned away. "Heroes . . . . They're always like this, boys: arrogant, demanding . . . and refusing to go quietly like good little citizens." Caught up in his chatter, he failed to her the quiet click behind and to the side. "Things are bad enough for the townspeople around here without their tax dollars being sucked up by us putting in overtime. Lowlifes like these kids, they don't have any right to cause that. It's so much easier to just save time."

He whirled, stones in hand and arm drawn back, ready to cast, only to find himself staring at the business end of Erik's gauntlet.

"You talk a whole lot more that you need to," the Defender said, almost cheerfully. "Flash Blast!"

Hit full in the face by blinding light, Razon fell back, the rest of his men blinking or rubbing at their eyes, trying to dispel the myriads of dots that obscured their vision. The Defenders took the opportunity to slip away, Adam taking a couple extra seconds to pull Kiimi along behind them. The door opened and closed quietly as the group slipped out into the night.

"Have you got a place you can go to?" Seth asked the oldster, voice low. When Kiimi nodded, he said, "Good. Go there, and watch yourself - it's not going to be all that safe for a while."

"Good luck, Defenders," the old man said quietly, before turning and hurrying off through the dark streets.

Adam shivered in the cool air. "Hey, guys? Unless we're planning to just make a break for it in our pajamas, I vote we sneak in the back way and get our stuff."

. . . . .

His face red and blistered, Razon stood angry and quivering in front of the communications array, doing his level best to hide his emotions from the call's recipients.

"You're early, Peacekeeper," Councilor Ydara, of Yantos, said, one eyebrow lifted in mild surprise. "We did not expect to hear from you until late tomorrow."

"Are we to assume that you already have the Defenders in custody?" Dakorian Councilor Mernal said, leaning forward.

Razon bowed in deference. "My apologies, Councilors - the Defenders have eluded the grasp of my men and I. We managed to corner them at their lodgings, but they escaped."

"Explain," the Infinorian Councilor - a pudgy man named Quirin - snapped.

The expressions of the circle of council members darkened steadily as Razon spoke. By the end, several had taken on a rather unhealthy red colour. "My men have cordoned off all roads out of the area - the Defenders will not escape," he concluded, then folded his hands behind his back to await the criticism he knew was coming.

"You were sloppy, Peacekeeper," growled Quirin, a deep scowl carving lines into his normally smooth face. "The Defenders are a slippery bunch, and not above using dirty tactics, if their recent activities are any indication."

"The Intelligence reports are sketchy at best - we have no proof it's truly them," said Sumosian Kastellir with a dignified sniff. He had come under a bit of fire, as the Defenders had been raised and trained in his home province - it was no surprise he was operating on the defensive. The media was more than likely to mention Sumos in any negative reviews of the Defenders, and it was bound to reflect on him.

"Oh, it's them all right," a new voice - calm, deep, and authoritative - put in. "I know their style, Councilor Kastellir. They may have changed a little over the years, but the basic method of operations is still there."

"Nonsense," Kastellir spat.

"You don't know them like I do," General Rood asserted, a tiny smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. His bionic eye roved across the circle. "Trust me, Councilors - Yintos has dealt with the Defenders before, and we are capable of doing so again, given the chance."

The only female Councilor - Jardine, of Nega-La - spoke up. "Be that as it may, I think we are all agreed that the Defenders must be detained and either brought under control or neutralized as a threat to the government. I motion that the Defenders be moved to the top of the Most Wanted list, for crimes against the Governing Council, including, but not limited to, conspiracy to commit treason, and plotting the forcible removal of the legal government."

"I second the motion," the Altamoran Councilor said, half-raising a hand, looking around as if searching for a sign that his approval was approved of.

"Motion carried," said the chair of the meeting, the Councilor from the Ogaman Federation. "All those in favour?"

It was unanimous. With eight hands in favour, the Di-Gata Defenders went from a minor nuisance, to the most wanted criminals in all of RaDos.


	6. SigilScars

From a distance, the Di-Gata Mountains looked calm and mystical, their peaks hidden in the clouds, and forests dotting their foothills. Distance cast a pearly haze across the bare rock, causing them to appear a light shade of gray. It was, in all, a picturesque little scene. As one got closer, however, the haze faded, revealing the natural dark hue of the rocks, and the cold snow that glittered on the ledges. The clouds shifted to reveal jagged, windblown peaks, and small settlements preceded the forests, occupied by hard-eyed farm families, grim-faced as they tried to wrest a living from the tough clay beneath their feet, and watching blandly as the Defenders' transport slowly wound it's way up the mountain road to Yangorod, taking the curves with caution.

"We should reach the city limit in another hour or so," Mel said, studying the holographic map before her, a finger tracing their route to a black circle marked 'Yangorod.' Where she touched it, the map turned red, marking their path from Ultamis.

Erik leaned forward in the driver's seat. "Hopefully, we get there before the snow starts. I don't like the look of the clouds."

Seth and Adam sat together in the back, going over a map of the city, planning out different routes to and from the Consulate building. "If we took this street here, we'd have a clear shot at the eastern gate. Could be a way out if things go wrong."

"Not good," Seth replied, shaking his head. "It's marked as a high traffic area, and that'd just slow us down."

"Crowds are easy to disappear in," the thief countered. "If Peacekeepers cordon off the streets, we've got a better chance slipping through there than on a low-traffic route."

"Hm. Good point."

There was a small pause before Adam muttered, "Man, this'd be way easier if you guys still had that chopper."

Mel's prediction proved correct - within the hour, they got their first glimpse of the walls surrounding Yangorod. A patrol of guards stood over the gates, watching for potential enemies while a lone Peacekeeper worked ground duty. The area just inside the two huge gates was walled in, with sliding glass doors the only way inside the city. To the side of each one was a rectangular black box - entering citizens swiped their identification cards through a slot, registering their name and caste with the Observer's Consulate. If a person's name appeared on the governments wanted lists, they would be denied access, and detained.

For just such a reason, the Defenders carried false identicards. With the transport hidden by a tall upcropping of rocks just off the main road, the four passed through the doors, incognito and on foot, into the main square.

"Lucky us," Adam muttered, looking around carefully. "We arrived right on market day." Stalls choked the wide space, limiting movement to narrow walkways. Chatter and noise filled the air, the people oblivious to the threatening clouds overhead. Snow was nothing new here.

"Well, you did say it was easier to blend with a crowd," Seth answered, as they started off into the bustling mass. "We'll find a place to stay first - the Consulate can wait until later."

The press of people cut off further discussion. Citizens bumped and jostled their way past, vendors attempted to push their wares onto unway browsers. Coloured streamers overhead lent the whole affair a festival atmosphere.

At last, they emerged on the other side, only to come face-to-face with a grim-faced Peacekeeper. The officer held up a hand, saying, "Pardon me, sirs; miss. Have you seen this man?" He lifted an imaging device, displaying the head and shoulders of a young man with a nervous, almost furtive, appearance. "He's wanted by the Questioners for interrogation. Any information you have would be useful."

"Sorry, but we only just arrived in the city," Erik said, his voice as innocent as he could make it. "We haven't seen your guy."

The Peacekeeper lowered the imager, regarding the four of them studiously. "And your business?"

MInd whirling as he tried to come up with a plausible answer, Seth glanced at the others. In a flash, he had it. Reaching out, he caught Mel by one hand, pulling her closer as he turned to face the Peacekeeper again. "My girlfriend's grandfather is celebrating his ninetieth birthday," he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm just along for the ride."

"And those two?" the Peacekeeper asked, eyes shifting to Erik and Adam.

"They're my cousins," Mel lied quickly. "Our parents run a sailing charter business out of Ultamis, and couldn't make it, but they sent us."

The fibbing session was interrupted by the shrill of a whistle, followed by several blasts from Di-Gata attacks. The Peacekeeper looked over his shoulder, said a hurried 'Very well' to the Defenders, and dashed off around the next corner, following the noise.

Erik exhaled noisily in relief. "That was too close."

Ducking out from under Seth's arm, Mel moved cautiously to the corner, the boys following cautiously. Di-Gata blasts still sounded every few seconds, shouts now adding to the mix. A glance around the edge of the building revealed the situation all too well. A young man lay face-down on the cobblestoned street, unconscious or otherwise, with Peacekeepers closing in from every angle.

"Get him to the Consulate," an officer told his underlings. "The Questioners can have their fun with him once he wakes up."

"Is that the guy we got asked about?" Erik asked as two Peacekeepers took the new prisoner by both arms, half-carrying, half-dragging him off along the street.

"Looks like it," Adam said grimly. As the Peacekeepers vacated the scene, one bent and picked up the prisoner's identicard before following his fellows and their charge.

"New plan," Seth muttered as the four of them ducked back out of sight. "Erik, you and Adam find us a place for tonight; Mel and I'll follow the Peacekeepers to the Questioners' Consulate and give you a call when we're on our way back."

Adam held up a hand. "Whoa, hang on a second. You're not thinking of trying to spring that guy? You don't even know what he's in for - he could be an actual criminal."

"He's not in for picking flowers," the dark-haired leader retorted. "You remember when there were raids on suspected Prime? That's what this was, I'm sure of it. It was exactly the same."

"It's at least worth a look around," Mel put in, looking around at the others. "A kind of small-scale reconnaisance trip."

Erik nodded. "All right. If you haven't called in two hours, we'll assume you got caught and get out. Try not to let that happen, though."

"Way to be optimistic," Adam muttered as the little group split up.

. . . . .

It had started to snow by the time the Peacekeepers, their prisoner, and the two Defenders tailing them reached the Questioners' Consulate, located on the eastern side of the city. From a deserted park across the street, Seth and Mel - relying on the Wizard's enhanced sight - watched the the prisoner enter the building's security system. Metal detectors, identity checks, and a fast, non-invasive body search made one thing abundantly clear.

"Looks like we won't be going in that way," Seth said, staring off to one side in thought. "Even with fake identicards, we'd be spotted in minutes."

"Getting through the gate was easy with the lax security," Mel agreed. "And the Peacekeeper earlier was pure luck. With this one, we'll have to sneak in."

"Then get both a general and private password to access the central computer -"

"And it has to be for the right person, or we don't learn anything."

"Taking a hostage like we did with Tarss isn't an option. Which leaves breaking into a high-level office and hacking the system."

"Erik could handle that, and Adam's experience can get us in -" Mel trailed off, looking oddly at her friend. "Okay . . . . Something's funny about that?"

Grinning, Seth shook his head. "Not about breaking the law a bunch of times, no. But it's a sure sign you've been around someone too long when you can finish their sentences like that."

Rolling her eyes, but smiling, Mel said, "You just wanted to break the chain of thought."

"Well, yeah. You're scary when you get too serious."

A footstep crunched on the snow behind them, causing the two Defenders to turn. Roughly ten metres away stood three lean, sketchy-looking younger men, none seeming as though all they wanted were directions.

"Aww, i'nt this cute?" the tallest said, folding his arms with a gap-toothed grin at Mel. "A girl an' her beau, talkin' sweet onna parkbench in the snowfall. Real, real sweet that is."

"C'mon then, little lady," a second male piped up, tossing a clumsy wink. "Ditch Darkielocks there, an' the three of us'll show y'just how sweet we c'n be."

"No thanks," the Wizard said casually. "I'm fine right here."

The third man snickered. "Poor kid don' know who she's dealin' with, does she, Boss?"

"That she don't, Rindle," Boss said, grinning to himself. Reaching inside his tattered jacket, he produced an identicard, which he flashed in the air. "You kids reco'nize the henge on there, right?"

"Yan-Ogama," Seth answered with a nod, before turning to look at Mel. "These Observers really are everywhere, aren't they."

"Bad things come in threes," she said solemnly, brushing a few snowflakes from her bangs. "Although I doubt these guys are bright enough to be actual Observers. They tend to at least have positive numbers for an IQ, unlike our friends here."

"Bein' an Observer don' take no fancy eddication," the second man snapped. "Bein' a member o' the Sigilscars, that takes brains."

Seth gave a quiet snort of derision. "The Consulate here is hiring street gangs as Observers? They might as well make a squirrel the Minister of Finance."

"The squirrel would probably do a better job than these guys too," Mel remarked.

Drawing stones from his pocket, red-faced with anger, Boss glowered at his two victims. "All right, enough stallin'. Get up, both of ya - we're bringin' both of youse in, and collectin' all the reward money y'got on your 'eads." As they stood, Seth surreptitiously tapped Mel twice on the arm; a signal to break left the minute an opportunity presented itself. "The thing is, Defenders, " Boss almost spat the word. "You were real stupid an' got yourselves inna bunch o' trouble, and that made the Council real mad. So they're payin' good, hard-workin' people like me and the boys t'bring you in, see?"

"Oh, we see all right," Mel answered, looking back over her shoulder at the Questioners' Consulate. A small group of officious-looking people had come out, and were marching hurriedly in their direction - backup for the Sigilscars.

"Don' be gettin' ideas about runnin', magic girl," the third gang member said, advancing a few steps. "The price for you by y'self is nice an' high, an' we aim to collect." His eyes hardened. "No matter what."

Seth grinned. "Oh, don't worry about her. She wasn't thinking about running. She's already past that."

Together, the two of them sprinted left, sticking to the winding footpath to avoid the deepening snow that would only slow them down. Shouts and stomping feet broke out behind them as their enemies gave chase. A louder yell rose above the others. "Sumshock!" Bright blue lightning pounced from behind, striking Mel's legs. With a cry of surprise, she fell, momentum causing her to roll for a short distance.

"Mel!" Skidding to a stop, Seth turned back to help his friend.

"Get going," she told him. "Better just one of us than both, right? Go get Erik and Adam, break into the Consulate, and fine the information we need." She shrugged. "If I'm lucky, I'll find Rion on my end."

"Quit being noble," he shot back. "Can you stand?"

She shook her head. "It was a paralysation attack. Those guys know their job."

"You know what Questioners do to people," he snapped, running a hand back through his hair in frustration. "You'll be lucky to survive long enough to make it to Amos-Yan, let alone find Rion." He looked up at the mob getting closer, plans of attack starting to form. "If -"

Mel glared at him. "Listen up, you dako-brainer, you are going to go find the others and complete the plan. Got it?" Seth opened his mouth to protest, but her hand pressed against his chest, an eruption of energy flinging him back several metres. Rolling to his feet, he looked up in time to see the first officers reach Mel, others heading for him.

Swearing under his breath, he bolted.


	7. Breaking and Entering

Chapter Five - Breaking and Entering

It took three quarters of an hour to lose the enemies on his tail. At last, Seth ducked in a deserted alley and took the communicator from his pocket. It opened, and Erik's face appeared moments later.

"About time," he said in relief. "Five more minutes, and -" He stopped, studying Seth's face closely. "Uh oh . . . . I know that look."

"They got Mel."

Silence filled the connection, broken only by Adam, cursing in the background, obviously listening in. "The Observers are hiring local street gangs to do their dirty work - three of them surprised us outside the Questioners' Consulate. They've got paralysation casts to catch targets who run."

Adam's face replaced Erik's. "Did you get the gang name?"

"Yeah. They were calling themselves 'The Sigilscars.'

The thief nodded. "Good. I've got a contact with them. They'll be able to help."

"With what?" Erik's voice cut in. "They're the ones who turned Mel over to the government."

"The contact's a spy, you dako-brainer. He has no real loyalty to the Sigilscars. And if Leader-Boy's planning what I think he is, we're going to want to leave town in a hurry. If we know where the governments gangs patrol, we'll have a cleaner, faster getaway."

Seth nodded once. "Sounds good."

"What is the plan, exactly?" asked a newly reappeared Erik. He listened intently as Seth explained, scribbling something down every once in a while. When he finished, he looked over what he'd written and nodded in satisfaction. "Seems pretty do-able. Adam and I can pick up the stuff we'll need and meet you somewhere. You pick the place."

"There's an old warehouse about five blocks from the Questioners' Consulate. Meet me there in two hours."

. . . . .

The snowfall had changed to freezing rain by the time Erik and Adam arrived at the warehouse. The massive sliding doors were cracked open, Seth waiting just inside, distinctly not in a good mood. He leaned against a square, concrete pillar, arms folded, and glaring at a tiny gouge in the floor as if it were somehow to blame for this situation.

He looked up as the others entered, giving a brief nod. "Right on time." Straightening, he stepped forward. "You get everything? Erik nodded, holding up a heavily laden backpack. Pulling his cloak tighter around around his shoulders and lifting the hood, Seth breathed deep. "All right - let's get going."

They covered the distance to the Consulate by way of back streets and alleyways, counting on shadows to keep their identities hidden. Within minutes, the tan-coloured brickwork wall of the Consulate was directly in front of them. The building was three storeys high, with white decorative molding around the flat roof. Windows broke the building face's monotony, all dark.

Setting the backpack on the wet ground, Erik removed their first tool - a tightly coiled length of rope, knotted at three-foot intervals, with a padded grapnel at one end. He passed this to Adam, who - eyeing the roof molding - gave the rope an experimental twirl, before swinging it up and away. Right on target, the grapnel latched onto it's target.

"Got it."

One by one, the three of them pulled themselves up, using the knots for leverage. On the roof at last, they pulled the the rope up after them, leaving it near the edge for a quick descent.

"The main computer centre is on the other side, on the third floor," Seth said, voice low. "We'll have to get rid of the outer alarm first, though. Breaking in would set it off."

"Got it covered," Erik answered, hefting a spray can. "This should keep it quiet."

Adam raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Hairspray?"

"Liquid insulation."

The boxy alarm proved to be too far down the wall for any of them to reach by leaning over the edge. Instead, they relied on lowering Adam down head-fist by hanging onto his ankles. Pushing the tiny tube through the alarm's grille, he depressed the button to start the flow.

"How much of this stuff do I put in?" he stage-whispered up to the others.

"Fill it up - the hammer on the alarm can't move," Erik hissed back. "It's the hammer hitting the bell that makes the noise that triggers an alarm with the Peacekeepers. Take that out, and we're fine."

"Right."

Five minutes later, with the alarm well insulated, they hauled Adam back up and set to work. In the front left corner of the roof, Erik marked out a circle in chalk, before stepping back and giving the nod to Seth.

"Nega Mass!" the dark-haired leader muttered, sending his cast into the centre of the circle. The stone roofing glowed briefly, before crumbling and collapsing in on itself. The sensors inside detected only deviances from the normal room temperature - falling stone would cause no reaction. Similarly, the guard patrols covered the detention levels only, a fact Adam had rightly called 'careless.' Lying on his stomach, Erik rapidly set up a small viewscreen, running a wire-thin cable from it to a tiny robotic device in his hand. Setting the little thing down on the edge of the hole, he tapped a few keys on his gauntlet and sent the robot over the edge and inside. The three of them watched the screen as the little critter crawled upside down along the ceiling. For several moments, the minusucle light above the little thing's camera eye illuminated only the plain gray of the ceiling surface. Then, all of a sudden, the stark white of the sensor reared out of the shadows.

Erik grinned. "Bingo."

Tiny arms eased through the ventilator grilles of the sensor, automatically searching for the wires that were needed. As they boys watched, the red light on the sensor's side flashed once, and went dark.

"We've only got thirty seconds to re-wire," Erik said, typing furiously. "After that, the alarm goes off, and we're as good as sigilsunk."

The seconds ticked by as the robot, following it's instructions as they came, pulled wires from their ports, switched them around, and fused others together. Twenty-seven . . . twenty-eight . . . twenty-nine . . .

The light flared back into existence, and the three boys breathed easier. "Re-wired," Erik sighed. "Now, all it sees is a video loop of an empty room. We're good to go."

"All right," Seth said, not wasting any time. "Let's get in there."

Once inside, they had to rely on handlights to find their way around. The room consisted of several rows of counterspace, a computer terminal placed every four feet or so. Miles of cords snaked along under the desks, power outlets shielded by heat inhibitors to prevent them from setting off the alarm with the warmth they gave off. The amount of technology in the room was staggering.

Grinning like a kid on Christmas, Erik moved forward to a tall, slender cylinder in the room's centre. "You know you're in the right place when there's a Knowledge pillar right in the room," he said quietly, the low volume not hiding his excitement. Reaching into a side pocket of the backpack, he drew out a disk , slipping it into a slot on the pillar's side.

"What was that?" Adam asked, frowning at the little piece.

"Slicer program," Seth answered - Erik was already immersed in . . . something. "It'll let him access the data inside the pillar without needing to have the two passwords."

"And we're just getting this thing now?" the thief hissed in irritation. "Why didn't you mention this beforehand when we were talking about how to get in the system?"

Gray eyes narrowed. "Hey, don't look at me. I didn't mention it earlier because I didn't know Erik had the program. And he didn't tell me because slicer programs are extremely illegal. The only way to get one is through the right contacts, and those are even harder to come by than the program."

" . . . . I don't know what surprises me more - the fact that you actually condone the use of this thing, or that Erik has better contacts than I do."

There was a quiet beep from the terminal closest to the pillar, it's lit screen shedding illumination on Erik's face. "I'm in," he said, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Starting the data search."

Almost immediately, little windows began popping up on the screen. Eyes flashing to each as they appeared, Erik frowned in concentration. For several seconds, he sat stock-still, watching. Then, all at once, his hand shot out, touching one of the windows at the upper right corner; all activity on the screen halted.

"Found it."

Leaning in, both Seth and Adam looked in puzzlement at the mind-boggling mix of numbers and symbols. No real words were discernible, merely gibberish.

The former thief glanced sideways at Erik. "Uh . . . got what, exactly?"

"Oh . . . . Sorry, hang on a second." He typed something in, causing the screen to blur briefly. When it cleared, the gibberish had been transformed into understandable words. "It was encoded," Erik explained sheepishly. "I forgot you guys can't read that stuff."

Seth was already reading. "It's fine," he said absent-mindedly. "These are the prison records from the last forty-eight hours, right?" Erik nodded. "Can you highlight the high-priority prisoners?"

The red-haired boy's eyes lit up. "Because that's what Mel will be!" As he typed, red bars appeared across certain names and information. As Erik continued, the page scrolled down, more red bars appearing over names.

"This place can't possibly hold all these people," Adam muttered. "It's got to be a transfer point for other prisons; places like Gata-shin or any of the political prisons set up by the Council."

"There!" Seth's finger pointed to one of the red bard. The screen stopped, a new window opening. A small picture at the left showed Mel's face, her information listed to it's right.

"Does it say where she's being held?" Adam asked, skimming the data.

"Cell 6495 - HP in J-wing," Seth said, straightening. "We're in J-wing right now, aren't we?"

A map appeared at Erik's prompt, a pulsing red dot signifying their location. "Yeah, we're right on the edge of the wing, about five floors above her. All detention cells are underground to prevent prison breaks - we just have to get down there."

"Can we do it without setting off any alarms?"

More typing and another window. "Uh . . . not really. Look at that; those are all the guard posts between us and her." At least twelve red dots were visible.

A grin curved one side of Seth's mouth. "Well, I guess it's more a question of whether they can stop us, then, isn't it."

Casting him a concerned look, Adam spoke up. "Hey, in case you forgot, this is supposed to be a sneaking in mission, not a complete internal assault! We don't have that kind of firepower."

The monitor went dark as Erik shut it down. "It doesn't have to be a full-fledged attack to be successful. All we have to do is get to the cells, get Mel, and get out again. If we have the right strategy, it should be easy."

"Yeah," the thief muttered. "If."


	8. The Cellmate

_A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long, but here's an update! To everyone who has reviewed, sent me messages, or even just read the story, thank you so much. It really does mean a lot to me to have people like you supporting this. You're all awesome, and this chapter is for all of you. (Sorry, you'll have to share. =P I do not own Di-Gata._

**Chapter Seven - The Cellmate**

The guard station was quiet as always. The monitors on the wall showed their views of empty corridors, lit by the stark lights from overhead. The man on duty reclined in his chair, feet propped on the edge of his desk, a steaming cup in his hand.

Behind him, the door opened, a female officer stepping inside, leaving it ajar. She glanced once at the monitors, then at her colleague. "You look comfy," she remarked, dropping into the seat beside his.

Dropping his feet too the floor, he straightened with a grimace. "Not really. I've got no feeling in my -"

"Anything to report?" she cut him off.

He slouched, his fun spoiled. "No . . . ." As his voice trailed off, a dark blur shot across one of the monitors, drawing the attention of both.

"What the -" the man started, half-rising. The female officer was already on her feet, heading for the door.

"That's the camera for this hallway, correct?"

". . . . Y-yeah . . . ."

The corridor outside was deserted as she stepped out into it. Looking left and right, one hand on the shockstick at her belt, she moved slowly along, keeping close to the wall.

"Wait here," she told her subordinate. "Close the door and keep it that way until I get back." The man nodded, retreating into the monitoring room.

Moving back to the desk, her watched the monitors carefully. His superior wasn't visible on any of them. He frowned . . . that wasn't right. Tapping on his keyboard, he scanned for an error in the monitoring technology. It came up clean. Still frowning, he moved to the wall, hitting the circuit breaker that controlled the nine screens. A cold shutdown wasn't supposed to be used except in an emergency, but he couldn't think of what else to do. He watched as they went dark, feeling slightly apprehensive. Suppose his superior couldn't contain the strange blur, whatever it was?

That was laughable, he scolded himself. The lieutenant was a good officer - she'd get the job done. As if to confirm that thought, a knock sounded from the door, which he hurried to open.

"What was it?" he asked as he pulled the heavy stone slab open.

Seth looked back at him, flashing a predator's grin. "Hi there." The surprised guard was still staring at him when the Defender's fist connected with his jaw, the impact of metal on skin knocking him out cold.

Checking around the edge of the door, making sure no other guards were on duty at this station, Seth took off along the corridor. Adam stepped from a side room up head, dusting off his hands.

"Out like a light," he said, in answer to Seth's unspoken question.

"Good. Let's hope Erik can keep the cameras busy for a little while longer; he said the loop video of the empty halls would only be able to run for a little while before it was detected."

"Better get a move on, then."

Both boys took off deeper into the bowels of the Consulate, feet making the only noise as they pounded the stone flooring. Coming up on the last corner, both skidded to a stop as sound rose ahead. Edging up along the wall they listened carefully.

" - mean, she was there at the last check?" a voice thundered. "Of course she was, otherwise even your idiot guards would have raised the alarm!" Deathly quiet stole in , only to be disspelled seconds later. "You! When was the last prisoner check?"

'T-twelve hours ago, s-sir," a new voice stammered. "Sh-she was in there, I s-swear she was!"

The first voice was now deceptively calm, loaded with menace. "Then she had to have escaped in that time, correct?" Another lull. "Tell me, Sergeant, what measures were you taking to ensure she stayed in custody?"

The resounding, tell-tale sound of a slap echoed from the hallway. "Stupid, do you ignore all your orders so carelessly? I specifically told you to keep her sedated, to prevent this exact situation! This is no ordinary girl you were dealing with; the usual measures won't work on an Wizard! Idiot!"

Around the corner, Seth and Adam exchanged glances - Mel was gone? Pushing lightly on his friend's arm, Seth motioned to one of the side rooms. Within seconds, they were inside, the door closed tight and a comm channel open to Erik.

"One second," the red-haired techie muttered. The sound of keys tapping filtered therough the speaker. "I'm checking the camera feed from outside her cell . . . . Okay."

"'Okay' what?" Seth prompted when his teammate didn't elaborate.

"Two guys came to her cell early this morning, three hours into the second quarter. Guards, I think, from the look of them. They used full binding . . . ooh, nice one!" A humourless laugh. "She managed to freeze one guy's face . . . oh, never mind. His partner made her get rid of it." He hesitated. "With a, uh . . . a shockstick." When neither Seth or Adam responded, he kept going. "Anyway, they take her off, but then about two hours later, another prisoner gets tossed in her cell. The face is blocked - I can't see them."

"Where'd they take Mel?" Seth said, consciously unclenching his left hand. It had curled into a fist just after the word 'shockstick.'

"Umm . . . ." The tone of voice indicated Erik was searching for their friend. "Oh, there she is. They took her up to the Questioning chambers -"

"They what?" Those chambers were stuff horror stories were made of. No one knew for sure what went on behind the closed doors . . . except that it was never pleasant.

"Hang on, I'm not finished!" When both boys were quiet, Erik continued. "Two hours later, the Questioner goes in. He's carrying a file - they probably have one on all of us. xcept he's only in there for about five minutes before a Protector goes in with full binders. They bring Mel out . . . and this is where I get confused."

Another pair of glanced was exchanged. "What do you mean?" Seth said, frowning quizzically.

"Well, when they bring her out, they don't take her to the right back toward the detention cells. Instead, they go left; the only thing that way is a bank of liftchambers."

"Look around - find where they took her after that," Adam said.

"That's just it," Erik said solemnly. "She's not on any camera after that. Not her, or the Questioner and Protector. It's like they just disappeared."

"Keep working on it - we'll take a look at her cell," Seth told him. "Let us know if you find anything."

"Be careful," Erik warned.

"Right." Breaking the connection, both boys moved to the side room's door, listening for sounds of the guards outside. The shouting officer had apparently left, with a majority of his underlings to invesitgate Mel's disappearance. Good - that meant the way would be mostly clear.

Looking at his friend, Seth jerked his head in the direction of the hall. Adam nodded, already lifting his cloak hood. Pulling the cloth tight around him, he vanished, the only sign of this presence being the door that opened.

Crouching in the open entry, Seth watched the hall in the opposite direction, in case someone decided to take a trip down to this season's must-go destination: the oh-so-cheery detention cells. Minutes later, a faint, two-tone whistle sounded - all set.

He made it to the cell within a minute, studying the look on Adam's face. "What is it?"

"You're never going to guess who her 'cellmate' is," the thief said darkly, glowering at the solid metal door. Reaching out, he flipped up a little flap, exposing a slot. Seth peered through . . . his eyes widened when he saw the person inside.

. . . . . .

Erik was waiting for them on the roof, pacing agitatedly. His head came up as Seth pulled himself up through the hole, looking just as ticked as he had when they'd started this whole ordeal.

"I shut everything down and erased my data searches," the red-haired boy said, coming to a halt. "Did you guys find Mel?"

"Not quite."

A loud male voice - strangely high-pitched - came from inside the hole. "I don't care what you say, I'm not going up - aaaaaaagh!" A body came shooting up through the opening, landing in a heap on the black roofing material.

Erik stared. ". . . . You have got to be kidding me."

Climbing to his feet, Flinch dusted off the gray prison clothes he wore, casting venomous glances at the two of them. "Just my luck . . . I get out of prison and have to deal with you people . . . ."

"We could always just leave you here," Adam muttered, hoisting himself out onto the roof. Flinch looked at him and fell silent.

"Why are were bringing him with us?" Erik muttered to Seth, watching the scientist warily.

"He got caught tapping into the power grid for a group of rebels," the other whispered back. "He's going to take us to them; says that they all want the same thing we do."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "Are you crazy? How many times has he sold us out before? How do we know he won't do it again?"

"Because," Seth said calmly, "we have stones and he doesn't. He's smart enough to know we have the upper hand. He'll play it straight until the ball's in his court - if he messes up then, he'll end up right back here. Either way, we win."

Breathing a sigh, Erik shrugged. "You're the boss."


End file.
